


Body Shots and Whipped Cream

by SaltySweetLicorice



Series: Body Shots [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Belly Kink, Body Shots, Chubby Kink, Chubby Stiles, College!AU, M/M, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-19 21:02:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1483834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaltySweetLicorice/pseuds/SaltySweetLicorice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An evening of Truth or Dare featuring whipped cream and body shots leads Stiles to the startling realization that Derek (the broody object of his unrequited desires for almost a year now) is not, in fact, turned off by his extra weight, but actually likes it - a lot. Who knew?</p><p>Stiles' POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Body Shots and Whipped Cream

**Author's Note:**

> The wickedly talented Chubstilinski voiced a need for chubby body shot fan fictions on Tumblr, and, given the fact that I have been thinking about writing a chubby kink fic for months now, I decided to go all Barney Stinson and said to myself "Challenge Accepted!"
> 
> Warning: If this is not your thing, please do yourself a favor and don't read it.

 

In retrospect, no one could really remember who had come up with the idea of playing truth or dare – even though Stiles claims that it must have been Erica. It’s just a tiny bit silly, considering that all of them have been out of high school for at least four years at this point – some of them even longer, given the fact that Derek has decided to grace them with his presence that evening.

Stiles isn’t really sure if he should be excited or anxious about that. Ever since Boyd, a friend from his cohort, had dragged his new spotting partner from the gym to one of their group outings a year ago, Stiles and Derek have never said much more than hi and bye to each other. However, that definitely hasn’t stopped Stiles from fantasizing about the man.

Derek’s a PhD student at their university, Stiles is about to finish his undergrad, and there’s about five years of age difference between them, which wouldn’t be a problem for Stiles, but is obviously a no-go for Derek, who barely even looks at him on a good day.

This ignoring-policy has been making Stiles’ evening rather awkward so far, as Derek, who showed up last, has been forced to sit next to him all night, a brooding, muscular epitome of stony silence. Seriously, Stiles really wonders why Derek even bothers to hang out with them at all sometimes, when the only person out of the group he seems to genuinely like is Boyd and he barely tolerates everybody else. It has been the older man’s turn only once so far and he chose truth, a decision he probably regretted the minute Erica asked him if he preferred growers or showers. If Stiles’ internally high-fived the air when Derek grumbled “Growers,” no one will ever know.

The bottle spins on Allison, who is dared to make out with Isaac for two minutes – boooring, in Stiles’ opinion – and then lands on Stiles, who chooses dare, trusting Allison to be nice about it. She isn’t.

“I dare you to take off your shirt and paint a Mickey Mouse on your body with whipped cream,” she decides, and Stiles gives her an incredulous look.

“Mickey Mouse? How old are you, five?”

“You’re stalling, Stilinski,” cackles Erica and Stiles rolls his eyes dramatically, nodding his head towards the kitchen and giving Allison a meaningful look. It’s not his fridge and he’ll be damned if he is sifting through Allison’s tofu collection again.

He makes a show of taking off his shirt, wiggling his ass and hips as he does so and he is definitely tipsy enough not to care that the movement makes his round stomach and somewhat fleshy chest bounce in a way that would be obscene if he were a woman.

He stopped being self-conscious about his weight when the freshman fifteen turned into freshman fifty and he realized that it didn’t really bother him at all, but that doesn’t mean he usually flaunts it in front of his friends.

Especially not in front of Derek, whose face has taken on a grim look, and for a moment Stiles’ feels the urge to cover himself up, imagining what Derek, whose picture could be next to the word “gym rat” in the dictionary, is probably thinking of his body.

Then again, it’s not like they’re getting anywhere, so he might as well give up on his Derek-related fantasies and enjoy the evening.

When Allison returns Stiles grabs the can with a playful grin and begins to spray a huge Mickey Mouse on his stomach, complete with big ears and a huge cartoon grin. On a whim he fills up his deep belly button completely, making it so that Mickey Mouse is actually sticking out his tongue.

It’s not his finest work, but Allison nods appreciatively.

Stiles sits back down next to Derek, his hands holding up his lower gut to prevent the whipped cream from staining his sweatpants and Derek makes a weirdly strangled sound.

Stiles isn’t sure if its downright disgust or if the guy really doesn’t have a sense of humor, but it penetrates his pleasant alcohol buzz enough to make him somewhat annoyed at Derek’s rudeness.

He doesn’t grin at all when, two rounds later, Erica spins the bottle and it lands on Derek, who, clearly remembering Erica’s love of penis-related questions, chooses dare.

Erica grins like Christmas came early and her eyes go back and forth between Derek and Stiles, a look of contemplation on her face.

“Well,” she decides, her contemplative look giving way to a grin that Stiles can only describe as downright evil, “considering that you have been glaring all evening and sat next to poor Stiles without ever so much as looking at him, I think we can all agree that you two need to become a little more acquainted with each other and that you really need to loosen up. I dare you to do a body shot off of Stiles and before that you need to clean him up – with your tongue.”

Stiles and Derek freeze simultaneously, although for different reasons.

Stiles is giving Erica an angry look – she knows about his crush on Derek, has been making fun of him for months actually – and he thinks it’s very shitty of her to put him in a position where a guy he has been fantasizing about for a year is forced to touch him with a look of disgust on his face.

He turns to look at Derek – and is surprised when the look on the older man’s face doesn’t scream disgust, but rather desperation.

Although he is still annoyed with Derek he feels a bit sorry for the guy now, considering how uncomfortable he looks, and decides to ease the tension with a bit of patented Stilinski-humor.

“Well, Boyd, I think I’m going to be responsible for y’all’s next round of spotting training,” he grins, referring to the amount of calories Derek is about to lick off of his belly. He shifts when the thought sends shivers throughout his entire body, willing his dick to play nice and not make itself known while he is spread out on the floor for all of his closest friends – and one judgmental gym fanatic – to see.

He stretches out his legs and props himself up on his elbows, aware that the position makes his stomach, still full from their pizza delivery binge two hours ago, seem even bigger.

Derek looks like he is walking to his execution and Stiles tries to give him an encouraging look, but it comes out as more of a grimace, as his elbows are digging into the hardwood floor uncomfortably from holding up his weight.

“Today, Hale,” Erica announces and Derek gives her a withering glare before his gaze meets Stiles’ and he swallows, the look of desperation suddenly replaced with determination.

“Sorry,” he mouths at Stiles and before he can wonder what that’s all about, Derek is suddenly perched upon his bulky thighs, his legs straddling his groin. Derek’s hands reach out to grasp Stiles’ love handles, steadying himself before he bends down and his tongue begins to lick up the cream on Stiles’ lower belly. Only mere licking isn’t the right word, it’s more like a caress, a worshipping touch, and as Derek follows along the creamy line, Stiles can feel his thumbs stroking gentle circles into his sides, digging into the creases of his flesh.

Derek has reached the top of his gut; his bearded chin rubbing against the firm bulge of his upper belly and Stiles swears he hears a purring sound when Derek’s tongue presses into his full stomach and, unlike at his soft lower belly, is met with resistance.

Because of his earlier maneuvering and his somewhat generous application of cream when he drew on Mickey’s ears, some of the cream has coated his nipples and Stiles holds his breath, expecting Derek to stay clear of one of his most erogenous zones (and really, that would probably be for the best, considering he’s half-hard already and doesn’t want to make his friends feel uncomfortable. Well, maybe Erica, for suggesting this sweet – pun intended – torture in the first place, but knowing her, she would probably enjoy it).

Derek tilts his head up so that his gaze meets Stiles’ and Stiles can’t hide his gasp when he sees that Derek’s green eyes are half-lidded and glazed over with what is undoubtedly lust. Things begin to click into place as Stiles suddenly realizes that what he thought was Derek’s disdain and disgust was actually Derek trying to disguise the fact that he likes Stiles. Or rather, Stiles’ weight, he can’t be too sure. After all, Derek doesn’t really know him at all, considering they never really talk.

It should bother him, probably, but then Derek, whose head is obscuring the others’ view, bends down and sucks one of Stiles’ cream-covered nipples into his mouth and Stiles thinks that nothing will ever bother him again. Derek’s fingers are gripping his flesh so hard that it almost hurts, his muscular thighs twitch as he leans down even further, aligning his groin with Stiles’ and holy shit, Derek is definitely rock hard in his jeans.

It takes all of Stiles’ willpower to keep his hands on the ground and not grasp Derek’s ass to grind the older man into him when Derek moves to the other nipple and bites down gently.

Stiles’ arms are shaking when Derek moves down the other side of his body, hot tongue trailing along the side of his belly, before lapping up the creamy eyes, nose, and mouth on the rounded center of his stomach. The little pleasure-noises he’s making have Stiles digging his fingers into the floor and when Derek tightens his hold on his thighs and rocks his hips, his erection goes from half-hard to hard in a flash.

Derek has saved Stiles’ belly button for last and when his tongue plunges into the glob of cream, the combination of Derek’s sucking and grazing stubble on his sensitive skin makes Stiles moan. He arches his back a little, the movement pushing up his stomach into Derek’s face and suddenly his belly button is completely filled with Derek’s tongue and the man’s nose is pressed into his soft flesh. He can feel Derek inhaling deeply; can feel him bite the edge of his belly button, before he plants his hands on Stiles’ lower belly and pushes himself upwards, breathing as if he has just sprinted 100 meters at the Olympics.

He prays that Derek won’t leave his position on Stiles’ lap anytime soon, because his sweatpants would do a lousy job of hiding his erection. He’s not even sure what has him more turned on, the look of utter pleasure on Derek’s face or the fact that his hands are currently cradling his lower gut, fingers digging into rolls of fat and tracing along the soft hairs on his stomach.

A bottle of Tequila is suddenly shoved into Derek’s hands and Stiles suppresses a moan when he remembers that the show is, in fact, not over, that Derek still has to do the body shot. Stiles lowers himself so that he is flat on his back and Derek opens the bottle with shaking hands, almost spilling half of it over Stiles when he fills up his belly button with the clear liquid.

Erica pushes a lemon into Stiles’ hand and Stiles takes it into his mouth, while Derek, who is still breathing heavily, is sprinkling a line of salt on his neck.

Stiles’ neck happens to be his second-most erogenous zone and he almost comes in his pants when Derek drapes his muscular body over Stiles soft one to reach his neck. Derek’s hands are pressed into the fullness of his upper stomach and Stiles lets out a soft groan at the pressure, the groan turning into a filthy moan when Derek sucks at his neck.

He is dimly aware that his friends are still in the room and that he should probably try to keep it together but all he can think about is Derek’s agile tongue on his neck and the hands that are digging into his stomach. When he is satisfied with Stiles’ neck Derek swiftly moves down to suck the Tequila out of his belly button and suddenly his mouth is slotted over Stiles’, tasting like salt and Tequila. He doesn’t even bother to suck at the lemon, ripping it out of Stiles’ mouth with his teeth instead and spitting it to the side. Then Derek’s tongue is pushing past Stiles’ lips, his hands are grabbing his waist and he is putting his whole weight on Stiles, his firm, muscular stomach pressed into Stiles’ round, full one.

Stiles forgets about his friends, all he can focus on is Derek, and he returns the kiss with everything he has. Derek is grinding his pelvis against Stiles’ and suddenly there is the rushing sound of multiple feet leaving the room and Stiles swears he can hear Erica mutter “Finally!” before the door closes behind his friends and they are alone.

His hands come up behind Derek’s shoulders, pushing the older man even closer to him and thrusting up his hips at the same time. It doesn’t take much longer until he comes, in his pants, like a teenager, but somehow that fits the truth-or-dare high school theme of the evening.

Derek lifts his hips and leans over Stiles’ body so that his jeans-clad groin is pushing against Stiles' lower belly and he grinds into the yielding flesh once, twice, before shuddering and coming as well.

Once he has caught his breath Derek rolls off of Stiles, dropping onto the floor beside him with a loud thump.

Neither of them says anything for a couple of minutes and finally Stiles turns his head to look at Derek and smiles slightly.

“So … that happened,” he says carefully and Derek utters a shaky laugh, his hand coming up to rub his face.

“Yeah. That happened,” he agrees.

“Is that a good thing?” Stiles asks, holding his breath while waiting for Derek’s answer. He still isn’t a hundred percent sure what exactly just happened, but he definitely knows that he wants it to happen again, multiple times, and in different positions if possible.

“It’s a good thing,” Derek agrees and Stiles exhales deeply.

“Good.”

The silence is more comfortable now and Stiles smiles brightly when Derek rolls on his side and snuggles into Stiles, one arm draped over his stomach and drawing wide, gentle circles around his belly button.

“So,” Derek begins, hesitation clear in his voice, “I know I haven’t really given you much reason to want to get to know me this past year, but I have been wondering for a while now … and this seems like a good moment to finally ask … can I take you out to dinner some time?”

Stiles pretends to think it over for a moment.

“No,” he finally decides, and when he feels Derek tense beside him he quickly reaches out his arm to prevent the older man from moving away from him, speaking quickly before he loses his nerve.

“I think I’d much rather invite you to my place, order take-out, and let you feed me. I have a very big couch.”

Derek lifts his head to look at Stiles, the look in his eyes happy, hopeful, and turned on all at the same time.

His hand moves up to the top part of Stiles’ stomach and he pats the bulge softy, a genuine smile brightening his features.

“If we do that, I will want you to eat more than that measly large pizza you ate tonight,” he teases and Stiles grins, his hand reaching up so it is on top of Derek’s.

“I’m counting on it.”

**Author's Note:**

> I freely admit that I learned pretty much everything I know about this kink from awesome fan fictions, so I hope I didn't botch it up too bad.
> 
> What do you guys think - should I write the companion piece from Derek's POV?


End file.
